Poached Salmon - "Not poached like that. Poached as in cooked."

by Amy

There are three poached salmons in the Gamache books

The first is referred to by Gabri as they leave the church on their way to their Christmas celebration in A FATAL GRACE.

“’Olivier’s getting the food from the bistro,’ said Gabri. ‘We made a poached salmon.’”

This is right before they eavesdrop on CC eviscerating her own daughter who had sung, like an angel, only moments before.

“They’d evaded the monster. Instead, it had devoured a frightened child.”

The second is uneaten by Peter Morrow’s cold and frequently hurtful mother in A RULE AGAINST MURDER. They are waiting to be interviewed by the agents after Julia’s murder. No one had much of an appetite; the salmon reminds Clara of Mrs. Morrow’s constant belittling of her daughter-in-law.

“The elderly woman sat on the sofa next to her husband, as though her spine had fused. Clara held out a small plate with a bit of poached salmon, delicate mayonnaise and paper-thin cucumbers and onion in vinegar. One of Peter’s mother’s favorite lunches, she knew, from the times she’d asked for it at their place when all they had to offer was a simple sandwich. Two struggling artists rarely ran to salmon.”

And, finally, in A TRICK OF THE LIGHT, the Morrows invite an eclectic group of people, including neighbors, police agents, artists, art dealers, and AA members to their house for dinner.

“’Are you and your people free for dinner?’ she asked. ‘It’s so miserable we thought we’d poach a salmon and see who can come over.’

‘Isn’t poaching illegal?’ asked Gamache, confused as to why she’d be telling him this.

Clara laughed. ‘Not poached like that. Poached as in cooked.’

Funnily enough, it took three books before Louise Penny included that little joke. It took about two minutes on our Facebook page. The first comment was from someone who – like Gamache – thought it sounded like I was poaching a fish, not poach-cooking a fish.

None of the scenes with poached fish tell us how the characters poached it. As it turns out, I discovered that there’s more than one way to do it. Apparently some people are pretty vehement that their way is the “correct” way. Others are unaware that there even is any other way to do it. Others, like me, made fish in a way that might be considered (by some) to be poaching a fish, but were unaware of the culinary term.

“Great. It’ll be very relaxed. En famille.”

Gamache smiled at the French phrase. It was one Reine-Marie often used. It meant “come as you are,” but it meant more than that. She didn’t use it for every relaxed occasion and with every guest. It was reserved for special guests, who were considered family. It was a particular position, a compliment. An intimacy offered.”

Except it wasn’t.

At least I don’t think it was. While I’m sure Clara considers the Chief Inspector to be a personal friend, I doubt all of her guests would qualify as people she considered to be family. It ended up not being a terribly relaxed occasion, what with the undercurrents of artistic envy, competition among art dealers, Peter’s  discomfort with Clara’s success, Castonguay’s belligerent drinking, and Ruth interrogating the agents on their investigation.

All in all, poached fish doesn’t seem to qualify as a comfortable meal for characters in Gamacheland. 

Listening to CC rant would ruin most appetites. Mrs. Morrow is probably the last person I’d choose to spend time with… (She scares me. Ruth is a sweetheart in comparison). CC is pathetic. Mrs. Morrow is mean.  She’s also intelligent enough that her attacks usually hit the mark.

The third poached salmon meal, while not quite comfortable, is the one I’d most like to have been around to help eat. I love gatherings where different people mesh and clash. A TRICK OF THE LIGHT is a book where Louise Penny’s central message is quite evident. In her acknowledgements she wrote:

“Many people were whispering in my ear as I wrote A Trick of the Light. Some still in my life, some now gone but always remembered. I won’t go on at length, except to say I’m deeply grateful I got a chance to write this book. But much more than that, I’m deeply grateful, after many years as a resister, I now completely believe that sometimes drowning men (and women) are saved. And, when coughed back, might even find some measure of peace in a small village. In the sunshine.”

Louise Penny writes about drowning characters. She gives them a chance of redemption. She knows what it’s like. This is an old interview I found when I first read this book and wondered how much was empathy and how much was drawn from some personal experience in redemption. (http://www.quillandquire.com/authors/louise-penny-s-second-chance/)

“And André Castonguay was left all alone.

‘He needs to hit bottom,’ said Suzanne.

‘I’ve hit many bottoms,’ said Gabri. ‘And I find it helps.’”

This book was a study on addiction and the strength of will (as well as loving support and community) necessary to fight it. I found myself remembering much of what Suzanne and the Chief Justice said when reading – in later books – about Beauvoir’s situation.

We don’t get to read about what happens to Castonguay. He gives us a glimpse of what it’s like on the way to rock bottom. Through other characters, Louise Penny treats us to tales of “drowning” people who are saved: Suzanne, Olivier, Beauvoir, Peter…  

We sometimes glimpse Ruth as a woman who is barely afloat. We realize, in The Long Way Home, that she’s Clara’s muse. Part of it is a form of negative inspiration – she’s a template of what Clara doesn’t want to become. She’s a hazard sign warning Clara to stay away from drowning. We see some of her pain (mostly in the latest books). Rosa gives her back parts of her heart. I’m hoping the next book will give her a measure of peace.

One of the (many) things I admire about Louise Penny is her ability to write grace. These books are, among other things, about grace. It isn’t a trick of the light. It is hope. It’s about the lifesavers thrown out to those drowning in self-doubt and despair. It’s about silver linings. It’s about crawling your way back after hitting rock bottom.

I usually bake fish. Sometimes I put it inside an aluminum foil envelope and fill it with citrus slices and white wine and herbs and bake it. When I looked up recipes for poached fish I discovered that some people refer to that method as poaching. Others describe a process of simmering liquid with citrus slices and/or vegetables with or without wine and various other herbs. Some say you simmer it for some minutes, turn it off, and then add the fish. Others say you keep the heat under it and add the fish but don’t let it come to a boil. Some add a rack so the fish won’t really touch the water. In this case it’s “steamed”. Others immerse the fish in the water. Some say you have to skin it first. Others say you leave the skin on and then remove it once you’re done. So many choices!

Thankfully, I’m put at ease by conflicting rules. My theory – in cooking, in motherhood, in my medical practice, and in life – is that harder it is to reach a consensus, the more likely it is that no one really knows for sure and you can kind of figure out what works best for you.

Part of the fun in this blog is trying new things. Since I usually use the baking method, I decided to poach this one in the liquid (although I've learned that the fancy French term is court-bouillon). One of the recipes I saw added fennel. I’d never added it to fish before and loved the idea. Since I had quite a bit in the garden, it was easy to make a generous bed of fennel and parsley for the court-bouillon. I also added lemon, lime and orange slices. I added a clove of garlic, two baby onions – coarsely chopped – and a carrot. I had no celery (which I love), but it’s not so easy to find here and doesn’t taste quite the same. Some recipes mentioned pepper, bay leaves, and dill. I skipped the salt and only added a pinch to my dill sauce. I’ve been kicking myself for forgetting the bay leaves, but I’ll be sure to remember next time. One generous cup of white wine was poured in and then enough water for the liquid to cover the colorful bed of flavors.

I was initially intimidated by the new culinary term (poaching), then felt like I might be in over my head when I read the first recipe that called for a court-bouillon. Now that I actually made it, I realize it’s so easy I feel like it should be taught as basic cooking. It’s easier (much) than scrambling eggs.

I turned on the heat and let the liquid simmer. Only one recipe mentioned that it was “necessary” to remove the skin before poaching. I ignored it since others disagreed and I thought it would be easier to skin the salmon filet afterwards. I was right. I turned the heat off about a minute after adding the fish to the liquid. I placed an orange slice over the fish to keep it immersed. It was done in less than 10 minutes.

This recipe is a winner! Why? It’s easy. It sounds fancier than it is. Cleaning up was quick and easy and the kitchen didn’t smell fishy. That’s the main reason I rarely make fish. I can’t stand the “fishy” smell.

I wish I could have found fresh dill. Fresh dill in Brazil is very, very hard to find, though. So I used dry dill and yogurt with a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon.

Perfect.

I think we can all agree that there’s more than one way to poach a salmon. We’ve already had a Facebook poll where some of you shared how you poach/cook fish. I do have another question, though. If you could share a meal with any of the Gamacheland characters… who would you choose?